


Food of Love

by Lucifuge5



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Cupcake UST, Fluff, M/M, Pining, past Frank Iero/Ryland Blackinton, past Mikeyway/Pete Wentz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-03
Updated: 2012-09-03
Packaged: 2017-11-13 10:56:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/502768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucifuge5/pseuds/Lucifuge5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever since it re-opened, Frank's been "Sweet Nothings"'s number one customer. That he harbors a gigantic crush on one of the owners is something that he's kept to himself for the most part (Ray will never tell a <em>soul</em>.)</p><p>It's not until he strikes a friendship with the older brother of the object of his affection that he 'fesses up. Moved by Frank's pining, Gerard promises to help Frank woo Mikey. Complications arise when Gerard's "helpful advice" is anything but.</p><p>Will Frank be successful in his courtship or are his chances to win Mikey's heart as ruined as a burnt cupcake?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Food of Love

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings:** Mentions of mild drug use (pot smoking).
> 
> Thanks are in order to Akamine_chan for comma-wrangling and lots of encouragement. You're seriously the bestest, love. ♥ I'm also tipping my hat to Bdr28 for _faboo_ art and Heartsdesire456 for my _kickass_ mix. Finally, the BBB mods are ten kinds of awesome for running this challenge. *high-fives all of you* :D!
> 
> Do check out the [fantastic mix and art](http://lucifuge5.dreamwidth.org/86366.html) for this story.

* * *

**Place Your Order Here**

Curled up in his bed, wrapped in what had to be the world's best comforter burrito, the last thing Frank wanted to do was to get up and start his day. Maybe playing Halo until 1AM on a weeknight hadn't been the wisest decision. Like it was his fault that Ray, his next door neighbor, had insane amounts of manual dexterity. He was such a fantastic person to play videogames with. None of that mattered when the beep-beep-beep of the alarm blared in Frank's ear. He growled at his phone, only turning it off after stretching one arm out and randomly pressing down all the buttons until the noise stopped.

The second alarm started up way too soon. Much to Frank's annoyance, its loud ringing penetrated into the cocoon he had happily burrowed in. Disappointed, he gave up on the idea of falling back asleep. He rolled to his side, untangling himself with all the grace of someone who was undercaffeinated and grouchy. Squinting in the brightness of his bedroom (why did the sun have to be so intense?), he scratched his head, yawning as he headed to his bathroom.

After a piss, a shave and a quick shower later, Frank was almost ready to face the day. Still on auto-pilot, he managed to put on clean clothes without too much trouble; the promise of having enough time for caffeine and sugar his only incentive.

 _Sweet Nothings should be open by now,_ he thought, whistling a slightly off-key version of "Past and Future Ruins" as he pocketed his keys, wallet and phone and headed out to face the world.

*****

**Vampire Dreams (with extra fog)**

Prior to finding his soon-to-be-favorite bakery, Frank's breakfast routine rarely deviated from a donut and a hastily drunk cup of coffee from the 7-11 near his school. Ryland, his then-boyfriend, was a disaster when it came to using Frank's coffee maker. Tired of buying a new coffee maker every other month, Frank opted to pretend that coffee was something he could only get outside his apartment. It wasn't much of a hardship. In between his college classes and his two part-time jobs, the last thing in Frank's mind whenever he was home was spending time in the kitchen. Smoking bowls with Ryland and watching movies or staying in bed, getting sweaty and messy, took precedence over caffeine.

The first thing he did right after he and Ryland broke up was to avoid as many of the usual coffee shops in a 15-mile radius as he could. If anything, it lowered the chances of running into Ryland and Victoria making googly eyes at each other when all Frank wanted was something sweet to chew on and a jolt of well-made coffee. One month after the break-up, he gave in and bought a crappy coffee maker. Anything to keep him from getting withdrawal headaches.

One day, nearly a year later, Frank was taking his clothes out of the dryer when the caffeine aroma of his dreams reached his nostrils. Ignoring his heavy laundry basket for a moment, he opened the laundry room door and turned his head this way and that, pursing his lips at the empty corridor. Someone must have walked down the hallway carrying what just had to be the most delicious coffee in the universe. One shoulder slump later, he picked up the laundry basket and returned to his apartment, hoping that he'd find the mystery person in the near future.

The answer to his prayers came the following weekend in the form of Ray Toro.

Walking back from picking up his mail Saturday afternoon, Frank stopped short when he got yet one more whiff of the coffee smell. Holding the latest issue of _Rolling Stone_ and his utility bills in one hand, he went up the stairs, two steps at a time. He focused on the faint jingle of keys until he found a really tall guy with some very impressive hair maneuvering two grocery bags filled with food and a large cup of coffee while trying to open his front door.

"You're the coffee ninja!" Frank said, startling the guy into nearly dropping everything.

The guy put down his bags and turned around, a confused expression on his face. "Excuse me?"

Frank put up his hands in what he hoped looked like an apology. "Uh, you're the one who's been bringing in that," he said, pointing at the Styrofoam cup his neighbor had in his left hand, "It's driving my coffee-addicted body a little crazy."

Anyone else and Frank would've gotten a glare and a few curse words thrown at him followed by a slammed. Thankfully for him, his neighbor was the chillest guy Frank have ever met. "This?" the guy said as he lifted his cup. "It's a large Vampire Dreams with extra fog from, erm, Sweet Nothings. You know, the bakery? They're, like, five blocks away."

"Vampire Dreams? Bakery, what?"

"It's a regular coffee made with extra-dark roast and a dollop of whip cream. The people at Sweet Nothings are, I guess, _whimsical_ when they name things." He shrugged like someone who had all the time in the world.

"Okay," Frank said, smiling nervously as he extended a hand. "I'm Frank. I live in 6B."

"Ray," the guy said, nodding while shaking Frank's hand. "We moved in about two weeks ago. It's nice to meet you."

"Yeah, same here," Frank said, taking his hand back and scratching the back of his head. "Um, so this bakery you mentioned. Did they just open?"

"Not really, no," Ray answered. "It's been around for a while. I used to go there all the time with my brothers, back in high school. Well, it closed down for a few months. They re-opened last Friday."

"Huh," Frank said, nodding, seeing the two bags by Ray's feet. "Oh, man, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be a douche. Let me, uh, let me help you with your bags."

"All right," Ray said, opening his door and leaving it ajar for Frank to step in. "You can put them on the kitchen counter. Brendon? You home? Hey, Bogart. Where's your brother?" He crouched down to pet a small dog that alternated between running around in circles and yipping at Ray's black Converse.

"Cute puppy," Frank said. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw another tiny dog approaching them.

"Thanks," Ray said, grinning at Frank. "Bogart is Brendon's. This other little guy is Bauer. He's all mine." At this, Ray picked up the Yorkshire, scratching under the dog's chin. He turned his head to the side, facing Frank while still petting Bauer. "Hey, you want to take my coffee? I don't know how you take yours and you'd have to heat it up but it's fresh."

"What? Oh no, dude, it's cool." Frank glanced at his watch. "Besides, it's 4 p.m. I think I'm gonna go check out the bakery. Nothing like good java and sugared up snacks when dealing with spreadsheets, you know?"

"So you're..."

"An underpaid office drone who knows his way around a computer," Frank said, shrugging. "Anyway, I gotta finish some reports for Monday. It's not that bad. I'll crank up "Braineaters" and bond with Excel for a few."

Ray squinted at Frank. "Misfits? No shit!"

Frank rolled his eyes, pulling up his pant leg with one hand while holding on to his mail with the other. Soon the Fiend tattoo on his shin was giving Ray a creepy smile. "This answer your question?"

"Awesome," Ray said. A faint melody (one that sounded vaguely heavy metalish to Frank) piped from one of Ray's front pockets. Ray wiggled his cellphone out and answered the call. "Hold on a sec. Yeah? Hey, babe. No, I'm hanging out with our secretly-cool neighbor. Hmm? Oh, the dude who lives next to us. Where are you?"

Frank's stomach made a noise that was half-burp, half-growl. "I'm gonna get going," he said, thumbing at the door.

"Wait a sec, B." Ray lowered his phone. "OK. Don't be a stranger. We usually keep late hours around here."

Frank nodded and went to his apartment to drop off his mail. If half the food for sale at the new-old bakery was as tempting as the vampire coffee thing Ray had bought, everything was going to be A-OK.

He didn't, of course, expect to fall in love.

*****

**Wolf's Bite**

Sweet Nothings turned out to be the best and worst thing Frank had ever come across. On the one hand, whoever the owners were, they had an enthusiastic love for horror movies that manifested in the menu names. For example, he could tell that the cupcakes he was eyeing were chocolate. Why someone had thought to name them Wolf's Bite he had no idea.

"You _sure_ you want this?" The guy at the register said, after giving Frank a quick once over. He looked like he was still in high school. "I mean, they're fresh. James made them before he left. But--"

"But?" Frank raised an eyebrow. Teenagers didn't intimidate him, beard or no beard.

"It might not be your kind of thing. James, the head baker, loves to create one 'mystery item' whenever he's really inspired. I think baking is his way of working out issues. Thing is, I'm not sure where his mind was when he came up with this."

Frank stopped himself from rolling his eyes. Maybe this kid's ( _Spencer_ his name tag read) sales technique was some type of reverse psychology thing. "Call me adventurous, then. Put me down for one and," he squinted at the menu board behind Spencer, "how about a Chainsaw?" Frank handed over his credit card, inwardly shaking his head at what Sweet Nothings called a regular latte.

"How loud do you want it?" Spencer said as he ran the card and waited for the receipt.

"Huh?"

"Sugar. None, some, a lot?"

Frank shrugged. He could roll with the weirdness. "Loud enough to be heard from the next county over, deal?"

"Cool with me," Spencer replied, giving Frank his card and a slip to sign. "Take a seat. I'll bring you your order shortly."

Frank nodded and looked around for a place to park his butt. The décor was a combination of thrift store chic with random artistic touches. Though mismatched, the chairs and sofas were clean. The low coffee and side tables surrounding them had everything from crossword puzzle books to classic table games like Clue and checkers. A few well-used tables lined the wall across from the counter. One booth and a table with two chairs were the last part of the seating arrangements.

The overall effect was that of a kind of 'down-home' comfort that was perfect for curling up with a book or working on a laptop. An iPod on a docking station behind the register provided all of the music--Britpop had blared from the speakers when he first stepped into the store. He could hear the beginnings of a Motörhead song as he waited for his food. It was pretty much impossible to resist the charm and warmth of the place.

This late in the day, there was only one other person, a guy sitting cross-legged on the small dark blue sofa by the door. A set of markers running the gamut from bright yellow to pitch black lay on the sofa's armrest. The guy sketched on a large notepad, picking markers almost randomly. Twisting his mouth this way and that, he jiggled a leg to the background music. His gold wedding band glinting as the late afternoon sunlight hit it when the guy switched markers.

Feeling like a creeper for staring, Frank picked an overstuffed chair that was straight out of _Dark Shadows_ and sat down. The guy on the sofa put down the sketchpad. "Spencer? Gonna go out for a minute."

"All right, Gerard," Spencer said without looking at him, carrying a tray with Frank's order on it. He placed the cup and the cupcake on the small pine side table next to Frank's chair. "Good luck," he said before heading back to the counter

Gerard stood up and patted one of his back pockets, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and walking out of the bakery. He lit up a cigarette right outside, leaning against the storefront like a delinquent from a '50s movie.

Chuckling at the comparison in his mind, Frank lifted the cup to his lips and sipped some of it. Frank closed his eyes and drank some more of his latte, enjoying the way its full-bodied flavor merged with the sweetness from the sugar. Silly name or no, this was coffee made with _soul_. The cupcake was chocolate with what looked like plain chocolate icing. Frank sniffed at it; there was an interesting smell he couldn't identify.

Thankful that he wasn't allergic to many things, he licked his lips. The worst thing that could happen would be that he didn't like the taste of it. He took a small bite and soon learned the reason for the name: it was chocolate all right, but it was also _spicy_. "Holy fuck!" he said, eyebrows jumping up as the sweetness gave into a tingling sensation in his mouth that soon turned into a fire.

"Told you," Spencer said all the way from the counter as he read a magazine.

Frank rolled his eyes and swallowed before getting another taste. An explosion of chocolate and chili powder rolled on his tongue. It was fucking weird but also strangely delicious. He took a few more bites of the cupcake, soothing the spiciness with gulps from his coffee.

Watching Gerard smoke his cigarette and craving his own, he swallowed hard when he saw a tall, lean guy approach Gerard. Wearing camo shorts, a blue t-shirt and a black hoodie, Gerard's new friend was _hot_.

It'd been a while since someone had caught Frank's eye. Like it or not, he had fallen pretty hard for Ryland. Getting over him had taken a lot of hard work and plenty of time spent in the mosh pits at the punk shows around town.

Handsome as the guy was, Frank couldn't see him jumping into a mosh pit. The longer Frank looked at him, the more he got the impression that Hot Guy would've gone to one of the clubs Frank liked to hang out at to check out the scene before moving on to something less hardcore. Besides, the rougher side of the Jersey music scene was small enough for Frank to know (or, at the very least, _recognize_ a familiar face.) There really was no way he'd have forgotten about seeing Hot Guy at any shows.

Frank couldn't--didn’t want to--stop taking in the guy's almost shoulder-length brown hair (maybe looking a little unwashed but, what the hell, it was Saturday), the laid-back cool vibe he had and the way his nice lips curved into an easy smile whenever Gerard said anything. Glad that he was finished with his food, Frank sucked at his teeth and scowled at his now-empty cup of coffee. How come Gerard was so chummy with this guy? _For God's sake, Iero, get a grip. You don't even know this guy!_ he told himself in an effort to push the cold pinprick of jealousy flaring up in his stomach.

Just then, Gerard flicked the cigarette he'd been smoking and jerked his head toward the bakery's door. Hot Guy made an expansive gesture with his hands before walking up to the front door and opening it.

Frank put his hands in his pockets, trying (but mostly failing) to keep his head down as Gerard and his mysterious friend stepped into the store. With the bakery as empty as it was, their voices carried over to where Frank was sitting.

"So, yeah, of course I'm totally psyched, Gee! How often does Pulp tour?" Hot Guy said, smiling at Gerard like it was Christmas Day.

"Not often enough, that's for sure," Gerard said, picking up his sketchbook and sitting down once more. He turned his head to the guy. "What are you having?"

"Pfft, Gerard. The usual, of course." Hot Guy took off his sunglasses and it was then when Frank knew his heart was a lost cause.

Hot Guy was somewhere between handsome and ridiculously pretty.

"Hey, Spence," Gerard said in hi slightly nasal voice, "two Zombie Shimmies, one foggy, one without. Extra sprinkles in mine."

"We're out of Splenda til tomorrow," Spencer said while playing with his phone from behind the counter.

"No problem. Make them plain, then."

Spencer grunted as he threw in pieces of fruit into a blender and added milk.

"I don't think Sweet Nothings ever ran out of Splenda when I kept the inventory," Hot Guy said, arching an eyebrow at Gerard.

"Ah, but then who could be trusted to keep the books? Oh, that reminds me, you are coming over for dinner."

Hot Guy made a face and started to shake his head. "I have things to--"

Gerard waved his hand. "Oh, no, dude. You _are_ having dinner with us. Lindsey is on a cooking kick."

" _She cooks?_ Since when?"

"It's some kind of artistic expression," Gerard replied as he took out his phone and dialed a number. "Now that you're back, I'm not going to be the only one to suffer. Hey, Linds. Guess who's finally home?"

Hot Guy gave Gerard a small side smile as the latter kept talking to whoever was at the other end of the line.

Frank took this lull in their conversation as a sign to stop eavesdropping. He stood up and headed to the exit. Hot Guy checked him out as he walked closer, his face blank. "Cool shirt," he said when Frank was almost by the door.

"Thanks," Frank mumbled, waiting until he was more than half a block away to look down at what he was wearing. He chuckled after realizing it was one of his 'laundry day' t-shirts. It was a green one with 'Little Miss Daredevil' on the front.

*****

**Sassy Tangerine-Almond Scones**

Before long, Frank spent his mornings, and the occasional evening, zooming in and out of Sweet Nothings. The food was good (he, Ray and Brendon, Ray's boyfriend, had devoured a box of Ghostly Breaths--pecan and sweet potato madeleines--one lazy Sunday afternoon). It was also a very chill place to hang out. Spencer's talent for snark proved to be a great way to shake off the workday blahs. He and Andy, the assistant baker, had a slow-burning 'thing' that equal parts awkward and sweet. Sometimes, particularly after a busy day, Frank liked to sit down and enjoy a pre-dinner coffee while watching the two of them make goo-goo eyes at each other. For all of his apparent prickliness, Spencer tended to blush whenever he talked to Andy. Meanwhile, Andy's preferred method of flirting was to make Spencer Sweet Nothings' unofficial taster. Frank had to stifle a giggle more than once after catching sight of Spencer's expressions at a new recipe.

Entertaining as it was, though, seeing the two of them left Frank wondering if relationships were worth it.

On the other hand, who was Frank to say anything? He'd been holding onto the hope that he'd see Gerard's friend again.

*****

At one point, he thought he saw Hot Guy at the Money Shot show. But then Ray had bought him another Heineken and the world got a little blurry after that.

He'd woken up the next day, jonesing for a cup of Vampires Dreams. Although it took him a little bit longer to stop feeling like his body was going to melt into a puddle of alcohol-scented ooze, he kept it together long enough to make the trek to Sweet Nothings.

"A cup of Vampire Dreams, please," he said as he walked by the counter, not even caring what anyone thought of him for wearing his sunglasses inside the store. He collapsed on what he liked to think of as 'his chair' and closed his eyes.

"Oh no, dude. You don't want Vampire Dreams. That will fuck up your stomach. Let me get you a cup of Bulletproof and a plate of Sassy Scones for when your tummy settles down."

Frank lifted his head and opened his eyes, momentarily puzzled at the not-Spencer voice. He sat up, fighting down his queasiness, and looked toward the register. "Dude, what are you doing behind the counter? Spencer's going to bitch you out." Apparently, his hangover self had no brain-to-mouth filter.

"It's his day off?" Gerard answered as he steeped tea into a cup. His hair looked wild, contrasting with the dark red apron and t-shirt he was wearing. He made a so-so gesture after he was done with the tea. "And I like to think he wouldn't bitch me out. He's, well, not exactly 'cuddly' underneath, but he's good people."

"I get you're, like, always here. Your loyalty to this place is quite epic. But, um--you're going to be in serious trouble if anyone else see you there," Frank said, pointing at Gerard.

Gerard shook his head, grinning like it was no big deal, and put a few scones on a plate. He placed everything on a tray and made his way to Frank. He sat down and poured a cup of tea, wiping his hands on his apron before offering it to Frank. "I co-own this place, dude. Here. Ginger tea's going to settle your upset stomach."

Frank took the cup from Gerard's hands, sipping the hot liquid carefully and leaning back against the chair. The riot in his stomach quieted down. "Would've never thought you owned this place. Like, how did that even happen?"

"My grandma left it to me and my brother in her will," Gerard said, biting his lower lip and looking years younger. "She ran the day-to-day operations from the time she married my grandfather until her passing."

"And so you, what, took over the bakery after high school?" Frank took another sip of his tea.

Gerard made a face. "No, I went away to SVA, my head filled with dreams of making a living by writing comic books and having a career like Grant Morrison's. But, you know, sometimes things work out differently. Post-graduation, I struggled with landing a good job."

Frank hmmed. That explained all the sketching he'd seen Gerard do.

"Then Elena passed and I had to come home to take care of Sweet Nothings," Gerard shrugged. "Didn't have much a solid plan past regrouping, maybe selling Sweet Nothings. Wouldn't have stayed if it hadn't been for Mikey."

Frank hoped Gerard wouldn't think he was being rude, but his gaze dropped to Gerard's wedding band. "He's your--?"

"Younger brother," Gerard answered after brushing some crumbs from his apron. "Really good with numbers since forever. He's wicked smart. Went to school, got an accounting degree, came back when Elena...and now here we are."

Frank scratched his chin. He didn’t need to look too deep to figure out that there was a whole lotta story missing. "So you bake?"

"Hmm?" Gerard said. "Oh, yeah. Elena taught us as soon my mom said it was OK for me to turn on the oven. Mikey--well, this one time, he must have been, like, 9 years old. He kept playing with the pilot light. There were a couple of dishcloths hanging off the oven door handle. Mikey got distracted and, well, half of the kitchen ended up catching on fire."

"Yikes! Everyone was OK, right?"

"Well, yeah," Gerard said after smiling at some distant memory. "Like, most kids have pyro tendencies. Mikey's happened to be at a whole 'nother level than most people's though. I think it was almost a year before our Nana thought he could be 'promoted' from mixer to baker."

"Yeah," Frank said, trying to imagine a younger version of Gerard and a random kid who'd be even younger covered in flour. "Hey, by the way, what's with the horror movie thing? I mean, I'm a huge fan of the genre. But, like, wouldn't it be easier if you just used the normal names? You know: 'latte', 'cappuccino', 'doughnut'."

"Maybe?" Gerard said with a shrug. "The names make things easier to remember. You should see how crazy things get in October."

"Well, it's got Halloween--which is awesome for two reasons," Frank said, not caring how smug he sounded.

"Two?"

"Yup. Trick-or-treating _and_ my birthday."

Gerard honked a laugh, loud enough to get Frank giggling too. The conversation soon turned into a spirited discussion about American horror movies versus. European ones and that segued into a lively conversation about the Jersey music scene.

Feeling rested for the first time since he had woken up, Frank liked how Gerard "please don't call me Mr." Way seemed to have an opinion about _everything_. They were in the middle of deconstructing _Friday the 13th: Jason Takes Manhattan_ ("dude, that title reminds me of the Muppets movie. That's just wrong!" Frank argued when Gerard was particularly stubborn about sequeling a beloved series) when the doorbell rang and in walked in Gerard's friend.

"Hi, Gee," the guy said, staring at Frank with faint interest. "Uh, hello?"

"Mikey, this is Frank. I'm trying to keep him from having the world's worst hangover. Frank, this is Mikey, younger brother and general music snob." Gerard smiled as Frank and Mikey shook hands.

"'s up?" Frank hoped his face didn't look green (from the hangover) or flushed (from touching Mikey.) As introductions went, this one would go into the book of world's records for awkwardest. Wearing his sunglasses inside probably made him look like an asshole. However, the last thing Mikey needed to see was the dark circles under Frank's eyes. He let go of Mikey's hand, curling his own hand into a fist to keep the sensation of Mikey's touch for a few more seconds.

Standing almost in front of him, Mikey's gaze zeroed in on Frank, his head leaning to the side. "I've seen you around at some of the shows."

"Oh?" Frank said, the heat on his face intensifying by a few degrees.

"Mmmhmm. I do some freelance consulting for Eyeball records. Sometimes, they give me tickets for local concerts. It's a nice bonus."

"OK," Gerard said, picking up the discarded plates and cups. "I have some of James' mini-quiches to box up for a party. There's also some marzipan that's calling my name. So, Frank? Nice meeting you. I would love to continue our conversation about those terrible 70s disaster movies sometime in the near future. And you," he said, hip-checking Mikey, "stop pretending that you've never seen the back of a kitchen and help Andy with the cake decorating."

"I thought Tennessee was in today?" Mikey said, eyes flickering over to Gerard.

"No, she's here tomorrow. See you around, Frank," Gerard said, walking around the counter.

"Bye, Gerard. I'm going to motor. Thanks for the tea," Frank said, ignoring the protest from his body when he moved. He zipped up his hoodie, thankful at the fact that his apartment was only a few blocks over. "Happy baking," he said when he was near the door. It was the dorkiest thing he could've ever said.

Still, he didn't miss the tiny side grin on Mikey's face.

*****

**Maple Nut Loaf of Heavenly Hell**

Two weeks later, Frank wiggled his fingers, happy that he remembered to wear his fingerless gloves. The temps had started to drop earlier and earlier each day. He and Gerard had been jonesing for a smoke, though, hence the two of them standing outside. "So," Gerard said after offering a cigarette to Frank, "you like my brother?"

Years of reflexes kept Frank from dropping his cigarette. He gave Gerard a side glance, his mind racing to figure out where Gerard was coming from. "Yeah?" He cleared his throat. "Yes."

Gerard nodded, exhaling smoke from the side of his mouth. He ashed the lit cigarette and took another drag before talking. "It was the way you looked at him. Interested, wanting. I love Mikey. He's clever and has the kind of heart that loves fiercely. I don't think he knows how awesome he is. People who don't know him might think that he's too full of himself or cold. But those of us who do, however, can't help but love him."

Frank hmmed. Gerard was building up to something and, knowing how Gerard liked talking, all Frank could do was give him time to make his point. He inhaled, squinting at Gerard's words, listening to everything Gerard was saying.

"He's no saint. Mikey, I mean." Gerard flicked his cigarette to the floor and stepped on it. "As a matter of fact, he was a bit of a player up until the end of his sophomore year in college. That's when he met Pete Wentz."

"Theirs was an intense relationship: full of ups, downs, big and little drama. But, after five years through stormy weather and calm skies, they broke up. Mikey, he…he kinda went _dark_ after that. I--I worried about him, about what could happen. That was right around the time of Elena's death so we were both a little adrift. We sort of saved each other."

"Sounds, you know, intense," Frank said in a calm voice.

"It was," Gerard agreed. "Anyway, Mikey's dated since then. The only difference is that he's become more cautious. Perhaps a little too careful with opening his heart. It might not mean anything in the grand scheme of things, but I can't help but be worried for him."

"I get that," Frank said. He stood up straight and looked at Gerard, hoping that his intentions toward Mikey were clear.

"Right. Right. I think--I think I'd like to help you win my brother's heart." Gerard scrunched up his nose. "Yeah, I know, that was over the top, but that doesn't make it any less true. So, if you don't mind me helping you, I think you'll have a great shot at being successful. What do you say?"

Frank put his cigarette back in his mouth and shook Gerard's hand. Had this been a romance novel, he would have heard wedding bells in the distance.

*****

The next morning, Frank rolled out of bed and put on the first clean clothes he found. Taking a personal day (he really shouldn't let Ray talk him into start playing a new Halo campaign after 10 PM) he didn't have to worry about office wear. He got to Sweet Nothings a little later than he normally would. "The usual please," he said, suppressing a yawn as he moved to the side and let the next person place his order.

Spencer tilted his head at him but, thankfully, kept his mouth shut about Frank's "office attire". Consisting of a red hoodie, black sweatpants and a black t-shirt, Frank looked like he was five minutes away from doing a Rocky Balboa impersonation, Belleville-style.

He sat on one of the tables closest to the main entrance, taking careful sips of his coffee as he watched the rest of the daytime people walk by. A couple strolled by, hand in hand, giving Frank the nudge into letting his mind mull over Gerard's plan. In retrospective, it made a lot of sense. The Ways were close, best friends since childhood. Frank had no doubt that Gerard had some 'secret arsenal' of inside information with which Frank could win over Mikey.

A familiar voice shook him out of thoughts. "Here," Gerard said, sliding over a plate of scones. "Have some Sassys."

Frank pointed at the plate and then at the menu board. "You know there's nothing--"

"Horror-based in that name. I know. James gave me a lot of shit when I told him about it," Gerard replied, sitting down in front of Frank uninvited. "I kinda shut him up when I told him that this recipe was one that Elena and I had come up with right around the time Mikey was born. My mom has always liked oranges, but, back when she was pregnant with Mikey, the taste of them made her nauseous. I was, like, 3 years old? So all I knew was that my mom was 'fat' and that she got really picky about what she did and didn't eat.

"Elena used to make this tangerine custard whenever the fruit was in season. I remember we were making scones and she was telling me some story about the different citrus fruits. I thought about my mom and, wanting her to feel better by eating something that was like her favorite fruit, asked Elena to put it in the scones mix. And that's how the Sassy Scones were born." He picked one of the scones from Frank's plate and bit into it, smiling as he chewed while his focus came back to Frank.

"So how come you didn't go to, like, culinary school?" Frank drained the rest of his coffee.

"Never saw the need to go, I guess. Baking was something I always thought of as play time. It's been one the ways I've always relaxed. The idea of someone forcing me to see it another way, you know, spending weeks kneading dough and making puff pastry just so I could get a good grade is one of the least appealing thing I could ever think of."

"And Mikey?"

Gerard smiled. "Well, after the pyro episode, he didn't really take to baking as much as I did. Though he did spend a lot of time in the kitchen as the 'official taster' for all the things we baked. He has some really intense taste buds. Like, he can tell what kinds of ingredients were used in anything and stuff like that. Tricky motherfucker. That's my little bro."

"Huh," Frank said, wiping his mouth after eating the last of the scones.

"Don't get too impressed though. He's a _terrible_ cook. Tried to make licorice and black cherry muffins once."

"That's, um, an interesting muffin," Frank said, frowning at what sounded like an extremely sweet combination.

"Yeah," Gerard pursed his lips, "Even our old dog sniffed at them without taking a single bite. But, enough about that. It's time to think about what would be a good strategy to get you and Mikey together. Do you have any ideas?"

"Um, I was thinking of asking him out?" It was a tried-and-true method, but also the most direct. The worst Mikey could do was say "No".

"Eh, that's all well and done after you catch his attention. What you need is, like, something that will draw him to _you_. Are you a jealous person by nature?"

Frank considered the question. "Not really. I mean, once I'm with someone I'm _with_ them. It's probably why I don't fuck around or date much, you know?"

"That's cool. Well, I was talking to Lindsey last night while we were watching _Project Runway_ , and I thought that it'd be nice to kinda show Mikey what he was 'missing'."

"Come again?" Maybe Frank needed another cup of coffee because Gerard wasn't making any sense.

"I mean, make him a little jealous. By, like, showing him that other people might have their eyes on you?"

"Are you talking about pretend dating someone else?" Frank made a face. He went through his mental catalog of the people willing to play that kind of charade, quickly dismissing everyone. Well, Ray would be up to it if Frank gave him a full dose of the sad eyes. However, the longer he thought about it, the less enthusiastic he felt. At the same time, it felt like he would be asking too much from anyone who would do that for him. Especially because it sounded like something a teenage would do, not someone who was almost 30 years old.

"You know I'm not talking about actually dating someone else for the sole purpose of revving up Mikey, right?" Gerard said after a couple of seconds. "Like, we could work something so it'd look like you're interested in me?"

"Dude, that's like something out of Cosmopolitan. Are you crazy?" Obviously, Gerard had more than one screw loose. He pushed his chair back and got ready to leave.

"Wait, Frank. Hear me out. I'm not saying that we're going to be, like, making out in front of him and shit. For one thing, I'm married," he said, waving his left hand in front of Frank as if it was breaking news, "and very happily so. But it could make him curious as to why you're not making moon eyes at him."

Frank twisted his mouth for a few seconds. The idea still sounded insane as when Gerard first put it out there. Had he been smart, he would've detoured the conversation with a distracting topic like DC vs. Marvel, Pantera vs. Sepultura or the best place to buy comics at. Unluckily for him, he simply nodded and let Gerard talk him into it.

*****

**Mud + Blood (no gravel)**

They had agreed on putting the plan in motion the following night. ("Thursday evenings are really quiet around here," Gerard had said, shrugging. "Plus, Mikey has to come in because he's borrowing my car.")

Frank made sure to go by his apartment after work for a quick shower and a change of clothes. Spencer _and_ Andy did an almost synchronized double-take when he stepped into Sweet Nothings.

Thankfully, no one wolf-whistled or he'd have blushed for real. The black jeans he wore had a snug fit and the dark blue sweater made him look good as well. Wanting to warm up a little, he ordered a cup of Mud + Blood and tapped his fingers in time with the song playing in the store.

"Yo, Frank!" Gerard signaled from the back. Sitting next to him, Mikey pushed his glasses up his nose, not hiding the fact that he was checking Frank out.

Frank jerked his chin at the brothers. He was going to be cool. Like John McClane or, maybe, Han Solo. Picking up his cup, he sauntered over to the table Mikey and Gerard were at, smiling as he took his seat.

"Wow, Frank! Looking good!" Gerard leaned forward, making an appreciative sound.

"Yeah, well, someone once told me that I have to let my pretty side shine," Frank replied, pulling up the sleeves of his sweater.

"Whoever that was," Gerard said brightly, "they were a genius. Oh, I had no idea your arms were inked too! Damn, you're just full of surprises, huh?"

"I wear a lot of long sleeved shirts at work," Frank said on a playful tone.

"You mind if I touch you?"

Resisting the urge to look at Mikey, Frank shrugged. "Go ahead. I'm not ticklish there."

"Ah, so where _are_ you ticklish then, Frankie?" Gerard raised an eyebrow, holding onto Frank's forearm and turning it, revealing the tattoo of the heart with the dagger in it. "So cool."

Frank mumbled thanks, taking a careful sip of his cinnamon cocoa while Gerard traced the heart tattoo.

"Must have hurt a lot, right?" Gerard said, his voice wrapped in awe. "I'd probably be covered head to toe in tattoos if it wasn't for the needles. Tattoos are such id-fueled signifiers, aren't they? Like, when I look at your arm, I can't help but wonder why did you choose this to be a part of you forever, what does it mean, what is the message or if there's even a message. Plus, hey, inked skin is super-sexy." At this, Gerard actually giggled.

"Um, I guess," Frank said, not listening to whatever tangent Gerard had gone into. Instead, he risked a glance to Mikey, regretting it instantly. He caught Mikey watching the two of them, his lips pressed with something like disgust. His heart sank to the floor when Mikey closed his laptop and began to pack up the rest of his things.

"I'm going to finish this at home. This place just got too crowded," Mikey said, slinging the strap of his messenger bag across his torso.

"Aww, don't go," Gerard said, oblivious at how upset Mikey was.

Mikey glanced at Frank, turning his gaze toward Gerard's hands holding onto Frank's arm. "Gee, what the hell are you doing?"

Gerard rolled his eyes at Mikey. "What are you talking about? Where are you going?"

"What are you doing, Gee?" Mikey splayed his hands at the scene in front of him. "What about Lindsey? Since when are you into guys?"

"Mikes, why don't you sit down? It's not a big deal. You're seeing things--"

"I know what I'm seeing, Gerard, OK? Whatever, I'm going to jet." Mikey turned around, crossing the floor to the exit in what looked like three steps.

Frank retrieved his arm, curling until his head touched the table. Thanks to Gerard's bad flirting, Mikey most probably thought he was a slutty dude who's into married men. He'd only been able to alternate his gaze between Mikey and Gerard, scrambling and ultimately failing to find a good explanation for what was going on. Something told him that telling Mikey he'd tried to make him jealous by flirting with his older brother wasn't going to help things at all.

"Well, that could've gone better," Gerard said, staring at the front door.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Frank mumbled. "I should've known better than to have listened to you."

Somewhere above him, Gerard hmmed. "I thought he'd try to make a play for you. Don't worry, though. We'll let him cool off, you'll talk to him and everything will turn out fine."

If the beginning of a headache was anything to judge things by, Frank knew it would take some work to fix things.

*****

Giving Mikey space meant sending Brendon or Ray to Sweet Nothings for the next few days. Frank didn't want to deal with running into Mikey, much less being on the receiving end of another look of contempt.

On the third day, Brendon handed him a bag of Sassy Scones alongside his order for a large Chainsaw (extra-loud). "There's a message for you inside," Brendon said, wiggling his eyebrows for a beat before he headed to his apartment.

Frank waited until he'd closed the door to dig into the bag. Heart thumping hard, he retrieved a small note, half-hoping it was from Mikey.

_Hey, Frank:_

_I don't have your number or even an email so I had no other choice but to contact you via this note._

_We haven't seen you at the store lately and, though I know why you've been avoiding it, I think it's totally counter-productive to your goals. Anyway, I talked to Mikey and everything's cool._

_This is your cue to come by the store and talk to him face-to-face! Maybe you can go with your original plan and be direct, hmm? No matter how nervous you might feel about trying again, I hope you know I'll be cheering for both you and my little bro. :)_

_XOXO,_

_Your Future Brother-in-Law_

Frank read the note one more time, slid his hand over his stubble and weighed the pros and cons of the situation. He couldn't deny the strange combination of worry and curiosity as to what exactly had Mikey and Gerard talked about. Plus, Gerard's enthusiasm and positivity gave Frank the nudge he needed to pick up his phone, wallet and keys. He was going to sweep Mikey off his feet (or, at least, ask him out on a date.) Whistling a medley of Black Flag songs, he left his apartment, filled with confidence about the whole situation.

"I'll be with you in a second. Gotta get some more register tape from the closet," Spencer said.

"Take your time," Frank replied, looking around the store (in a totally not-looking-for-signs-of-Mikey-way) until he saw the most hilarious photo ever.

It was a poster-sized photograph of what looked like the cat from hell. Wearing a pink dress that ended in a tutu, a light blue hat _with bunny ears_ and shiny pink shoes, the cat faced the camera with a look that wavered between 'Help Me!' and 'I'll eat your soul for laughing at me'. There was a whiteboard space above the photo large enough to write on it. Someone (probably Gerard) had added the words 'Bunny Sez Today's Tasty Item is…' in loopy handwriting on it.

Frank snickered, the bubbly feeling of seeing something so fucking bizarre tickling him to no end. One look at the poster later and he was off howling with laughter. It was the cat's expression what really made him crack up until he was gasping for air.

"Okay, I'm ready," Spencer said, a couple of rolls on his hand. He put them on the counter and thumbed at the photo. "Oh, you like it?"

"Dude, that's the most fucked up thing I've seen. It's so whack!" Frank wiped his eyes, taking deep breaths in between a couple of random giggles. "I mean, that cat's like an alien from a grade Z movie, you know?"

"Yeah, well…"

Spencer's tone was off.

"What?" Frank opened his eyes and that's when he saw Mikey standing next to Spencer.

"It's my favorite picture of her," Mikey said, his voice cold as an iceberg.

"Oh. Sorry." Frank grimaced.

"I know that some people won't get it. But dressing up makes Bunny happy."

"Yeah. I just. I mean, look at that! Tell me that isn't something that belongs on a LOLcat site!" He pointed at the photo without looking at it because otherwise he'd start to cackle at the cat that Mikey loved to dress up.

Mikey's silence was the answer he dreaded the most.

Right then, Gerard walked in. "Hey guys. Frank! How do you like our suggestion board? Pretty neat, huh? Mikey, did you tell Frank that you made Bunny's costume?"

"I gotta go," Mikey said flatly before swiping up his keys and cellphone.

"Crap, what happened now?" Gerard said as he, Spencer and Frank looked at Mikey stomp out of the bakery.

*****

**Kill All Your Macaroons**

Had this been a movie, there would've have been a montage where Frank sat down, notebook in hand, and tried to come up with a plan. One that had a ridiculous title such as "The Greatest Plan to Win over Mikey Fucking Way" or, given Mikey's love of horror movies, "I'll Love You Even If You Become a Zombie."

Instead, he sat down with Gerard one afternoon on his way home from work and tried to figure out just how he could salvage the fragile remains of his almost-relationship with Gerard's brother.

"What about a grand gesture?" Gerard said before taking a bite of the just-out-from-the-oven Kill All Your Macaroons.

"I think the coffee and the sweets have finally rotted your brain. You need to focus, Gee. Your brother is pissed at me and I have zero idea of what to do," Frank said, well into his third cookie. "Dude, these are awesome."

"Yeah. They're vegan too. Took me and James a while to replicate the texture from a non-vegan recipe. I think it was worth it," Gerard replied, dunking a cookie into his cup of Vampire Dreams before eating it. "But then, I've always tried to figure out what people are like based on what they order."

"Really?" Frank chewed on his macaroon thoughtfully. "What does Mikey's taste for the extremely sweet means?"

"That it takes him a while to realize that he's worth loving. He's also a secret cuddler and loves animals."

"Yeah, but I could say that's just you telling me stuff that you already _know_ about your brother and interpreting them via his sweet tooth."

"OK, how about you?"

"What about me?" Frank raised an eyebrow. "You mean who am I based on what I like from what your store sells?"

"Yup. It's interesting that you gravitate to Balm for Your Soul. Lavender and chocolate is a rich mix of flavors. Obviously complementary ones, but still. You're kind and full of surprises. Also, you're prone to doubt yourself at the worst moment possible."

Frank couldn't deny that most of what Gerard had said sounded a little like him. Regardless of how vague or accurate, getting 'read' by dessert was a new experience. "Whatever, dude. You could say that about anyone."

"Well," Gerard said after he was done with his coffee, "I can tell you that finding out that Lindsey loved hazelnut, orange and dark chocolate brioches with truffle and white chocolate shavings helped me realized that she was the One for me."

"That's her favorite dessert? Huh, I'd expected something a lot more exotic," he said sarcastically.

Gerard smiled good-naturally. "I came up with that one. It was how I told her that I loved her and what actually lead to our first kiss." Gerard's face acquired a dreamy expression.

"No shit?" Impressed as he was, Frank brought his thought back to Mikey. "No, none of that grand gesture thing. I've fucked up," he glanced at Gerard (who, at least had the grace to look regretful), "but not so majorly--I hope--that I'd have to throw myself at your brother's mercy."

"I did say I was sorry, didn't I?" Gerard said petulantly.

"Yeah, you did. I still have to figure out what to do," he pointed his macaroon at Gerard. "You are hopeless when it comes to advice. Like, never, ever quit Sweet Nothings and try to make a living trying to give people dating tips." He thunked his head against the table. "What the hell am I supposed to do now? I'm already on Mikey's shitlist."

"How about just asking me out?"

Frank lifted up his head at once, shaking his head for a second and exhaling as he turned around and saw Mikey giving him one of his patented amused raised eyebrows. He turned back at Gerard, shooting him a 'You couldn't give me a head's up?' look before standing up. Though low, he could hear Gerard's chuckle. "Hey."

"Let's go sit over there," Mikey said as a way of greeting, leading to a corner at the opposite side of the store.

Keeping quiet for once, Frank waited until Mikey offered him a seat. Maybe Mikey was going to ask him what kind of psycho he was or if all of his faux pas were a way to pass the time.

"So me and Gerard talked, erm, about what happened when he tried to flirt with you. We've always gotten along, so I didn't understand why he was acting like he didn't care about Lindsey. And, like, we've had our fights. What siblings don't?"

Frank could only nod. This was like something out of an afternoon soap opera. Only one where the majority of the cast had tattoos, were coffee enthusiasts, were mostly dudes and had vast amounts of nerd cred.

"Uh-huh," Mikey said, cracking his knuckles. "So it turns out that my big brother is a complete doofus when it comes to love. He apologized for pretending to like you. It was pretty crappy of him to put you in the spot like that--"

If this was the only opening that Frank had, he sure wasn't going to waste it. "I knew you guys were close and got along great. So, even though Gerard's advice made little to no sense, I thought I'd give it a shot."

"Gerard's logic is not fit for human minds," Mikey deadpanned.

Frank laughed, releasing some of the tension at last. He took a deep breath. "Listen, I'm sorry for making fun of, um, Bunny. It was pretty shitty of me to, like, mock your cat and her fashion choices." As apologies went, it wasn't the best one he'd given. The only thing he could hope was for Mikey to see how sincere he was.

Mikey bent his neck sideways. "I don't know how much Gee told you about my last serious relationship. It might be lame to say this but the break up was a big reason why I ended up in a deep depression. I kinda left Jersey for New York, crashed for about six months at my friend Alicia's place in the city. She's a guitar tech and so she's always either about to go on tour with bands or coming back from tour. Although she likes animals, she doesn't have any pets because, like, it wouldn't be fair to the animal, you know? Anyway, I'd been staying at her place for about four months while she toured Europe and Asia. To tell you the truth, I don't even remember what I did most of those months. Gee came over every other weekend. I mostly kept to myself." He cracked his knuckles.

"So this one night in, like, May there was no food or coffee in the house. There's a 24-hour _bodega_ about seven blocks away from Alicia's building. And, despite the rain and the late hour, I got it in my head to go out and get me some goddamn coffee, a loaf of bread and some cheese. On my way back, I went by this alleyway. The rain was nothing more than a drizzle at this point and for, like, once the city was really quiet. I heard this tiny mewl."

"I never had cats as a kid because Gee's allergic. Pete was more of a dog person so we had Hemmy--who was more his than mine. Don't ask me why, but I walked into the alley, calling the cat out. I found this small ball of fur hiding inside a cardboard box. When I waved my fingers at the kitten, it came to me purring and being, you know, cute in the way cats are. I picked her up and took her home, cleaned her up, fed her and had a good night sleep. When I woke up, I realized it was the first time in months that I really believed I was going to be OK."

Frank put his hands against his face. "Wow. Now I feel like a total douche for laughing at her."

"Well, I was also pissed at you because I made everything Bunny wore in that picture except for the booties."

"That's…special." Frank gave Mikey a hopeful smile.

"I think the word you're looking for is 'deranged.'" Mikey returned Frank's smile with one that was bright. "Whatever. It's good therapy and I love arts and crafts so--"

"So, even after making fun of Bunny, you'd be OK with me taking you out and showing you a good time?" Frank mentally crossed his fingers.

"All signs points to _yes_ ," Mikey replied.

Refraining from lifting his arms up, Frank opted for winking at Mikey. He leaned forward and stared into Mikey's hazel eyes. "How does sushi sound?"

"Delicious," Mikey answered. "But I thought you don't eat fish?"

"That's right. Still, I can think of a few rad places that serve things I do eat." Emboldened by Mikey accepting his invitation, Frank took one of Mikey's hands and bit softly on the knuckles. "And then, maybe later we share dessert?"

"Now _that's_ a plan," Mikey said, his smile a naughty one.

Feeling slightly lightheaded--Mikey's focus on him was _intense_ \--Frank looked down, enjoying the moment like the minor triumph it was. Everything could've gone so very wrong. "Awesome. Tomorrow good for you?"

"I've got a few meetings, so it'd be late."

"9 PM?"

Mikey nodded at Frank, picking up his phone. "Gotta make a note. Not like I'll forget but still."

Frank studied Mikey's long fingers, allowing himself to imagine what it'd feel to nibble them.

"Hey, dude! I've got some fresh out of the oven Balms cooling off. You want some?" Andy wiggled his eyebrows like he was offering something exotic.

"Sure," Frank said after clearing his throat. "You know I won't ever pass on the opportunity to eat some."

Next to him, Mikey quirked an eyebrow. "Should I be jealous of my store's baked goods?"

Frank tilted his head side to side for a few seconds before blurting out a "Nah!"

*****

He ended up going home with a box of Balms after picking at one cupcake. Mikey was helping close the store and Frank had an early morning. They said good-bye with a kiss that left Frank smiling at everything from Spencer to the menu display. Mikey looked equally as dazed.

Zipping up his coat, Frank walked the few blocks back to his apartment. He'd thought of calling Ray over for a gaming session, but his body protested. He changed into comfy clothes and settled in his favorite chair, turning his Kindle on, intent on reading a few more chapters of the latest Henry Rollins book.

At some point, he must have fallen asleep because he woke up sometime after midnight, everything inside his head feeling like it was stuffed up with thick cotton. _It's probably nothing,_ he thought as he sat up and half-shuffled, half-stomped to the bathroom. All he needed was two aspirins and some more zzz's.

Tomorrow, he'd go to work and then get ready to show Mikey a good time.

*****

**Our Lady of Cupcakes**

Frank woke up the next day to a headache and a general sense of uneasiness. Any other time, his day would've felt like it had zoomed by. Instead, the headache morphed into a cough and a nose so runny that he went through an entire box of Kleenex before calling it a day.

Soon after walking into his apartment, Frank took off his shoes and peeled off his clothing (down to his undershirt and boxers). A quick trip to his bathroom left him with the bounty of over-the-counter medication. Downing a couple of pills before going back into his bedroom, Frank thought that a little nap would give his body the chance to fight off whatever was trying to knock him down. He'd wake up in a few hours, perhaps a little roughened up but feeling steady, and take Mikey out to one of the many sushi restaurants in the area.

Those few hours ended up being more like until the next _afternoon_.

Frank opened his eyes, rubbing the crud off them and taking a deep breath. His headache was still hanging out, ceding its place for the congestion in his chest and the sorest throat he had ever had. He had to practically shove the next dosage down his throat, using all of his patience to ride the pain as the pills went down. A clatter from the kitchen woke him up a little.

He was still (and ever so slowly) cataloging whether or not he had anything worth breaking in when Brendon's head popped into the room.

"Hey, dude," Brendon said, his voice rough--probably from smoking pot before coming over, "Sorry about that. I thought you had some soup I could warm up. Ray says 'hi', by the way."

"Hi?" Frank whispered, swallowing when the inside of his throat let him know how tender it was. "Ray?"

"He went to get you some soup from Sweet's," Brendon said. "He gave me your spare key."

That explained things. No sooner had he thought about Sweet Nothings that his eyes popped open and he tried to sit up. _Mikey_ he thought.

"Oh, and Ray thought it'll be cool with you if he told Mikey about you being sick."

 _That's because Ray's a genius_ , Frank thought, relieved that he wouldn't have to do that much groveling whenever it was that he'll be able to see Mikey again. He closed his eyes, thinking about the soup he'd have later and let his body and mind slipping into blissful sleep.

*****

"Frankie?"

The first thing Frank noticed was the gentle pressure of someone's hand on his shoulder. He opened his eyes only to see a smiling Ray holding what was sure to be the tastiest soup in the world.

"Think you can sit up?" Ray said after he placed the bowl on the nightstand.

Mind still a little clouded, Frank could only roll his head and let Ray put him on a sitting position. "B?"

"Shh, Frank," Ray said, picking up the bowl and starting to feed him. "He passed out when I came less than hour ago. I gave him some Bulletproof with lemon for extra boost and half of my _Cielito Lindo_ turkey wrap. How's the soup?"

Rather than talking (or trying to), Frank smiled at Ray, the warmth of the soup soothing his throat.

"So," Ray said trying for casual and totally failing, "I talked to Mikey. He was hanging outside Sweet Things, looking pissed off. Wasn't too hard to recognize."

Frank opened his eyes, ignoring Ray's slight jab at Frank's thorough description of Mikey during that one night he got wasted and talked about his feelings. Forcing himself to stay put, he stared at Ray, hoping his friend could read the _'and?'_ telepathically.

Ray must have had a hidden power to understand sick Frank because he kept talking as if they were having a full conversation instead of half of one. "He was confused when I told him that you were sorry you had missed on your date with him. At first, he was kind of pissed, you know? But then, I told him about you being sick and he got worried. I made it clear that you were in no way to see anyone when you're coughing half a lung on the hour."

 _Cockblocked by my best friend_. It sounded like something straight out of a Jerry Springer episode. Frank hung his head, his body being just as predisposed towards sickness as ever, it was going to take at least a few days (if not a week) for him to feel strong enough to go see Mikey at Sweet Nothings.

"Hey now!" Ray said, a little too brightly for Frank's liking. "I've seen you sick. I know how unlikely you'd be to carrying a conversation with anyone, your future boyfriend least of all. Let's get you back on the road to health first."

Frank shrugged. Of course Ray wanted to be patient and what not. He simply didn't understand how close Frank had gotten to fixing things with Mikey and how far all of that seemed now.

"There's no need to pout," Ray said, winking. "Right before I left, Mikey handed me a box. He told me that they'd keep for around three days. I'm gonna put it in your fridge in just a moment. Oh, but he told me to show them to you first." At this, Ray picked up a bakery box and tilted it a little forward, opening the top cover.

Inside, there were a literal Baker's dozen of Balm for Your Soul. The chocolate and lavender cupcakes were Frank's favorite. He smiled at the marzipan spider on one of the cupcakes. There was a short message on the top:

_Frank,_

_I hope you feel better soon. <3, Mikey_

_P.S.: You still owe me a date._

Resting his head on his pillow, Frank closed his eyes, inwardly sighing with relief at Mikey's forgiveness.

*****

Frank spent the majority of the next two days sleeping, coughing and sleeping. He'd been sick many times since childhood. Thankfully, his cold wasn't serious to the point of needing more than rest and plenty of meds.

Brendon, for all of his stoner tendencies, was a pretty cool (if a little exhausting) guy to hang out with. He was chill enough to do his nurse thing without getting annoyed with Frank's complaining (with 95% of his voice _gone_ , it wasn't as if he was bitching nearly half as much as he normally would. The miming, though, would've driven a lot of people crazy).

Ray gave Frank regular Mikey updates. Sometimes, it was a little annoying.

"Did you know that Mikey's a total wrestling maniac?" Ray said one afternoon.

Frank shook his head sideways.

"Well, he is. I was telling him about this night a couple of months back when I got to go to a WWF match and he fucking lost it. Spencer kept making double takes as Mikey got more and more into the story."

This was the cherry on the top of Gerard's awful advice. Gauging by how excited Mikey had acted, wrestling--out of all things--was the sure way of winning Mikey over. Frank let the weight of the realization fall on his shoulders as they slumped.

"Listen, for all of the talk about Randy Piper and awesome body slams and shit, Mikey's main topic was _you_. That's what was in his mind. I'm just saying that find a fellow wrestling fan was one of the coolest things ever, man. I totally approve of you and Mikey dating." Ray gave him a thumb's up sign.

Frank stuck his tongue out at Ray.

"Yeah, yeah, Frank," Ray said nonchalantly. "See if I bring you any more sweets tomorrow."

Frank made sad eyes at Ray while trying to imagine Mikey at a wrestling match. It was was great to find out that, despite his hipster tendencies and aloof façade, Mikey was as big of a dork as him.

*****

**My Way Home is Through Caramel Apple Cheezycake**

Frank woke up from a very nice dream where he and Mikey were at some mythical concert with The Pogues as headliners. A faint click-click that Frank couldn't ignore echoed in the room.

"Oh, sorry!" Brendon said, grabbing a bunch of yarn and needles and putting it back in his backpack.

"No worries, B.," Frank said, his voice raspy. "I think it was the sound of the needles what woke me up. It was…familiar."

"Really? How so?"

"My grandma taught me how to knit. She said," Frank smiled and shook his head. "She said that it'd help me focus, you know. Stop running around and getting my knees scrapped up and shit. I never really stopped being a little daredevil. However, it's always been a fun thing to do. And, when your eyes hurt too much to read or watch TV or you have to wait for jury duty or, the fuck do I know, you're actually super-bored, picking up some yarn and starting a project is a really fun thing to do."

"You are full of surprises," Brendon said appreciatively. He opened up his backpack and resumed his knitting.

"Eh, something like that," Frank said, looking at Brendon. "Who taught you?"

"My mom," Brendon said in a soft tone of voice, almost as if he didn't want to. "She's always believed in that whole 'idle hands are evil' thing.

"Huh."

"My family's religious," Brendon said, blushing slightly. "Sewing is something women do but knitting can go either way. That's what my mom told me." He gave Frank a tight smile before focusing on his project.

Frank cleared his throat. He was still too out of it to have a deep conversation with Brendon. "So, um, what's your favorite thing you've knitted?"

Brendon paused and bit his lower lip. "Ah, yes. I made this really cool pair of socks for Ray's birthday. They have the AC/DC logo on them."

"No shit. They took you long to make?"

"Well, not really," Brendon replied, warming up to the topic.

Frank let Brendon's words wash over him, his thoughts focused on the box of Balms in his fridge.

*****

It didn't surprise anyone that Frank practically flew to Sweet Nothings as soon as he was able to walk around without feeling dizzy. He'd texted Mikey on the way, bundled up in early winter gear and eager to hang out somewhere else other than his apartment. He still had close to a week and a half of sick time left.

Gerard waved at him from the booth, a marker in his hand. "Frank! So good to see you! Come here, I've got an idea!"

Frank took off his coat and scarf and crossed the bakery, jerking his chin at Spencer. "Give me a large Wolfsbane and whatever Bunny recommends, yeah?" He sat in front of Gerard, annoyed that Gerard had (not surprisingly) re-thought his promise not to meddle. "Gee, really, stop helping. I'm trying to keep him for _hating_ me, OK?"

Gerard picked up a dark blue marker and started to fill in the vampire's cape. "You know he's into arts and crafts, right? Like, our mom always gives him a gift certificate for Michael's. And I know you don't do 'grand gestures'," he made an expansive wave, nearly drawing half of a mustache on his face with the blue marker. "But think, just think, how great it'd be if someone made something especially for you."

Much as Frank hated to admit it, Gerard had enough charisma to melt through any of the defenses Frank had built after the "Love 101" fiasco. For when Frank opened his mouth to call the idea for the high cheese factor, he ended up blurting out: "Well, my grandma taught me how to knit…" Soon as he'd said that, he slapped a hand on his mouth and started to shake his head.

The glint in Gerard's eye was scary. "Excellent!" he said.

Frank had a sudden vision of knitting a hoodie for Bunny or something equally as ridiculous. "No. Whatever you're thinking about, Gerard, forget about it."

"What if I throw in some free Balms? Free for, like, the next year?"

"You're lying?" Frank's mouth watered at the thought of eating his favorite cupcake whenever he wanted to.

"Am I?" Gerard said like a campy villain. (Really, all he was missing was the mustache to twirl evilly). "Guess you'll never know if you don't start kni--Hey, Mikes. How's it hanging?

Frank made a gesture like he was zipping up his mouth and gave Mikey what he hoped would look like his most innocent look.

Rather than say anything at all, Mikey sat down, giving both Frank and his brother a really serious stare. Anyone else would've cracked within seconds. Gerard, however, had grown up with Mikey so he was able to keep quiet.

Frank wasn't so lucky. Though, rather than rat out Gerard, he buried his face in the crook of Mikey's neck and mumbled a 'he's just trying to help'. He expected Mikey to withdraw into himself and leave or to bitch Gerard out for sticking his nose in Mikey's romantic life (again).

So no one was more surprised than Frank when Mikey pulled back and planted a kiss on the corner of Frank's mouth. "Be careful," he said, and grinned.

"Not a word, Gerard. Not a word," Frank said, his right hand up.

*****

The one thing that no one knew about Gerard was how persuasive he could be. Though he had backed down from 'helping' Frank, his influence was tangible hours later when Frank ended up at a craft store asking the (thankfully) geeky associate about cool scarf designs for a horror movie enthusiast. It had taken some time, but Frank walked out of the store with grey, white, black and red skeins, a new set of needles and a list of geeky knitting sites online to check out.

One great thing about having not much to do other than rest was the amount of time he could apply toward Mikey's present. The second thing was that few people knitted as fast as Frank could. Soon, Mikey's present was ready.

He waited until the following week, during which Mikey taught Frank how to make Zombie Brains (hazelnut biscotti) and Crooked Batwings (double chocolate macadamia nut cookies). All of Mikey's kisses tasted like cocoa and sugar.

"I think you should come to my house tonight," Frank said, licking one long strip of powdered sugar from Mikey's neck.

Mikey stopped nibbling on one of Frank's ears. "Oh yeah?"

Frank could only say "Surprise. Got one for you" in between playfully biting Mikey.

"Is it here?" Mikey pulled Frank's t-shirt and pretended to take a peek.

"Could be. Um, hypothetically speaking," Frank said, wiggling an eyebrow.

"All right. Let's set the alarm and get rolling."

*****

"So," Frank said once they were inside his apartment. He threw his keys on the dining room table, making sure that his present remained hidden away until the perfect moment. "I know you said to stop paying attention to your brother."

"Yeah." Mikey's unsure tone was to be expected. Gerard had unintentionally almost gotten Frank and Mikey nearly to the end of the relationship before it even began. He took off his hoodie, and padded over to the kitchen, a box of Balms in hand.

"Trust me, I _know_ how miserable your brother made me. That's not to say that all of his ideas were bad."

He gave Mikey a nervous smile, trying his hardest to sidestep the oncoming freakout, trying not to worry about whether or not he's doing the right thing. He couldn't remember ever seeing Mikey wearing scarves. However, Mikey could probably appreciate the idea of getting a handmade gift. Frank wanted to tell him about his search for the perfect pattern, how he geeked out with Brendon while working on the final design and Ray's input on the yarn choices.

All that could wait, though, until some later date. First things first.

Mikey walked back to the living room and leaned against the wall. The red of his lips, the cool gaze and his very pose made Frank come up will kinds of bad, bad things. He licked his lips, tapping into his inner reservoirs of patience because Mikey was worth it.

"You mind turning around?" Not wanting to seem too eager, Frank had hid the present in his bookcase. He picked up the box, squared his shoulders and crossed the floor until he was standing nearly flushed against Mikey. He rested his head against the middle of Mikey's shoulders, soaking up the warm and the faint smell of aftershave. "I--I wanted to make something for you."

"Okay," Mikey said.

Frank straightened up and took a step back. "You can turn around now. Here," he said, offering up his present.

Mikey took the gift and undid the ribbon. Glancing at Frank one last time, he opened the box and sucked in breath. He pulled the scarf, his smile becoming a full grin when he saw the rest of it. "You--you did this for me? How?"

"A magician never reveals his secrets," Frank said, feeling lighter than air as Mikey unspooled the scarf and petted the _Jaws_ shark logo at the ends of the scarf. "Feel free to say 'Frank, you are a genius.'

"Would you settle for a kiss?" Mikey said, wrapping the scarf around Frank's neck and pulling him in.

"That'd be totally rad," Frank said. He tilted his head, closing his eyes when he felt Mikey's lips against his, not thinking about sugar cookies, zombie hearts or anything else but this moment here and now.

THE END


End file.
